


Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are

by Gadzooks06



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Drunk Driving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadzooks06/pseuds/Gadzooks06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is in a car accident and Enjolras takes the news the wrong way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are

Grantaire was driving home from another meeting. It was a gorgeous night and all of the stars littered the sky like grains of salt in a big blue bowl. He had an eighties rock station playing and was humming along, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He was about a mile from his apartment and was delight to see that the stoplight that normally mocked him by turning red as soon as he approached, was green.  He cross the intersection within the speed limit and didn’t see that the minivan coming from the other direction wasn’t stopping until it was too late. The minivan collided with Grantaire’s passenger door, flipping his green four-door sedan, sending it spinning off the road and into a guard rail. Grantaire screamed, his windshield had shattered and his windows had shattered and there was glass everywhere. The airbags deployed, sending a white powder into the air. Grantaire thought it was smoke. His car was going to become a bomb and he was going to die inside. He was upside down, struggling with his seat belt. He fumbled into his pocket, drawing out his keychain with the seatbelt cutter. He ripped through the strap that was cutting into his chest. His hands were violently shaking and he couldn’t get the door open. he was panicking, the car was going to burst into flames. he needed to get out. R clambered out of the broken window, getting to his feet and running as far as he dared from the car.

Grantaire spotted the minivan, it had crashed into a stop sign on the other side of the street. It barely had a dent but in the grill. He looked back at his own car. It was totalled. There was not one salvageable piece of the car he’d just finished paying off. His hands were still shaking, but he managed to take hold of his cellphone. He shakily dialed 911. He sat down at the curb, noticing the massive cuts that had sliced through his jeans and were oozing blood onto the pavement.

“911. Where is your emergency?” An operator picked up, her voice was calm and even, probably a requirement.

“The intersection of C-crown and D-dawson, at the s-s-stop light.”

“I’m sending an ambulance and police to the scene now sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Could you tell me what happened sir?”

“I was just in a c-car accident.” Grantaire stammered, his entire body was shaking, he didn’t even know he was crying.

“Are you injured sir?”

“Um, my legs are bleeding a lot and I’m covered in cuts from the glass, the seat belt cut through my shirt and my chest is bleeding as well, but other than that, I think I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that sir, is there another driver?”

“Yes, they hit a stop sign, their minivan seems to be fine.”

“Can you stay on the line until the police arrive?” The operator asked.

Grantaire check his phone battery, “Yes.” he replied.

“Good, may I ask what your name is sir?”

“Grantaire.”

“Alright Grantaire, my name is Mable.”

“Howdy.”

Mable giggled lightly on the other end, “Alright Grantaire, could you describe the minivan that hit you?”

“Sure.” Grantaire squinted at the minivan across the street, a woman had just climbed out of the car, “Oh! Oh! A woman just came out of the minivan.”

“Could you describe her for me Grantaire?”

“She’s about 5’ 8”, red hair, wearing blue jeans, a black t-shirt with Deadmau5 on it with a-a, black leather jacket over it and what looks like yellow running sneakers. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties” Grantaire squinted at what the woman had in her hand, “And she’s holding a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“Alcohol?”

“Unless she’s reusing the bottle, that’s whiskey in there.”

“What kind of minivan is she driving?”

“A silver Dodge Ram minivan, maybe a 2006.”

“Can you read the license plate?”

“No, sorry, but it’s a state plate-oh my god.” Grantaire grimaced, his eyebrows narrowed and his face turned bright red, he was furious.

“What?”

“She’s vomiting into the bushes by the side of the road.” Grantaire covered his other ear and turned his back to the disgusting scene. He could hear sirens blaring down the street. He’d stopped crying, “I can hear the police and the ambulance coming down this way.”

“That’s good, just stay on the line until I say so.”

“Wouldn’t dream of hanging up.”

“You describe the scene very well Grantaire, it will help should you decide to press charges.”

“Well, I’m an artist, I sort of have an eye for these kinds of things.

“What kind of artist?”

“I like to paint in water colors, but I tend to work in charcoal and pastels when I draw.”

“What do you like to draw Grantaire?”

“My friends, landscapes, still life, the usual.”

“I bet you’re very good.”

“I the gallery that just bought some of my art would agree.”

“Good for you!”

“Yeah, I’m going to need the money for a new car now.”

“The police will help you get squared away.”

“Speaking which,” Grantaire shielded his eyes from the red and blue flashing lights, “They’ve just pulled up.”

“Make sure they know where you are, and then you can hang up Grantaire.”

Grantaire waived his hands, the EMTs spotted him and pulled out a gurney from the ambulance, “Thank you Mable.”

“Happy to help Grantaire, take care of yourself now.”

“Don’t worry, Mable,  I will. Good-bye.”

“Good-night.”

Grantaire hung up the phone and tucked it into his pocket as the EMTs rushed up to him, asking him tons of questions and helping him stand. Grantaire responded as best as he could and he watched as a police officer detained the drunk driver. The EMTs strapped him to the gurney and rolled him over and up into the ambulance. They closed the doors and the siren started again. The ambulance screamed as it headed towards the hospital.

**

“Is there anyone you want us to call to pick you up?” The X-ray technician asked sweetly, handing him his bag of shredded clothes and leading him towards an exam room.

“My… my boyfriend, Enjolras.” Grantaire sat down on the table and ripped off a piece of paper. The nurse handed him a pen. He scribbled down Enjolras’ number and ran a hand through his hair, careful to avoid the fresh stitches in his eyebrow.

“I’ll dial him up right away so you can get home.” The nurse smiled again, her scrubs had neon panda bears on them, “Ill be back in a jiffy.”

“Can I get water from down the hall?” Grantaire asked hoarsely.

“Sure thing dear.” This nurse was way too chipper for this late at night. Grantaire hopped up from the table and padded into the hallway to the water cooler. He filled a paper cone and continued to refill it until his throat didn’t taste like airbag dust anymore.

“Grantaire?” R turned around. Joly was standing in the middle of the hall in baby blue scrubs, holding a clipboard, “Grantaire, what did you do?” Joly saw all of the cuts and stitches on Grantaire’s face and body.

“My car flipped over and I had to cut myself out of my car with a seatbelt cutter.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m standing aren’t I?” Grantaire scoffed, wincing at the laceration on his chest from the strap that had trapped him in his own vehicle.

“Where’s your room?” Joly took hold of Grantaire’s arm and lead him back to the door marked with a fourteen.

“A nurse is already calling Enjolras.”

“I’m going to text him as well, just so he doesn’t miss the call.” Joly clutched his clipboard tight to his chest with one arm and dug into his pocket with the other, quickly shooting a text to Enjolras, “I have to go, but if you need anything-”

“I’ll be fine Joly, I just want to get into my own clothes, sleep in my own bed, and worry about this tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later I guess.” Joly turned and shuffled out. Grantaire groaned, and slowly laid himself all the way down onto the exam table, waiting for the nurse to return with his full-body X-ray.

**

Enjolras picked up his phone and read Joly’s text just as his phone began to ring. He immediately answered it, standing up from his desk.

“Hello?” His voice was much quieter than he’d intended.

“Hello, is this Enjolras?” A sugary voice responded on the other end.

“Speaking.” Enjolras snapped, looking down at his hand and slowly uncurling his tightly clenched fingers, his nails had dug white marks into his palm.

“This is nurse Tillie from Bastille General Hospital. I’m sorry to tell you that your boyfriend, Grantaire was in a drunk driving accident.”

“What?!” Enjolras rushed to the door, shoving on his shoes and shrugging on his jacket. Robot meowed from the counter.

“He’s alright, thankfully, just a few cuts and scrapes, nothing major, his clothes are quite torn and bloodied. He gave me your contact to call to come and pick him up. There’s nothing from keeping him from going home tonight.” Enjolras ran into Grantaire’s room and shoved a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt into a backpack. He was livid. Nurse Tille was still speaking into the phone.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Enjolras grabbed his keys, slammed the door behind him and dashed to his Mazda in the parking lot. Nurse Tillie said good bye and he hung up, throwing his phone into the passenger seat, angrily going over the speed limit to get to the hospital.

**

“Grantaire, Enjolras is here to see you.” Tillie chirped, opening the door, Grantaire sat up straight, his eyes gleaming, hoping to find some sense of normalcy with his Apollo. Enjolras stepped into the doorway. Grantaire’s smile fell. That was not a happy face, or a sad face, or even a concerned face plastered across Enjolras’ mug, that was a pissed off face Grantaire tilted his head, puzzled. “I’ll let you two be so you can explain everything to him.” Tillie closed the door.

“What. Were. You. Thinking?!” Enjolras roared, throwing Grantaire’s backpack onto the floor.

“What? I didn’t-”

“Drunk driving! How could you do this to me? I knew you drank more than normal people should, hell, I knew you drank more than heavy drinkers should, but I didn’t pin you as the kind of person who is stupid enough to get behind the wheel of a car after being completely plastered!” Enjolras paced around the small room, running his hands through his hair.

“I can-” Grantaire tried to interject.

“You completely destroyed your car Grantaire! It’s totalled! You just paid off that car! I hope it was worth wasting all of the hard-earned money on a bottle of liquor!”

“You’re not listening to-” Grantaire was getting frustrated, his chest was shaking again.

“You could have killed someone! You could have hit someone and they could have died! you could have died Grantaire! And after all this time, I thought you were turning over a new leaf, I thought you could change for the better, what with the gallery and the-”

Grantaire couldn’t take it anymore, biting his lip wasn’t going to help anymore. His entire scarred body began to shake uncontrollably as tears streamed from his face, “I WASN’T DRINKING AND I DIDN’T HIT ANYONE! THAT BITCH HIT ME! SHE WAS DRINKING AND SHE HIT ME! MY CAR FLIPPED AND I THOUGHT I’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!” Grantaire screamed, holding his shoulders and trying to get himself under control. He’d just had a very difficult past few hours and Enjolras wasn’t acting like R thought he would, “I thought I was g-going to d-die and that I’d n-never see you or R-robot, or anyone again. I thought my car was going to explode and I was going to die on the side of the road.” Grantaire whispered, covering his head with his hands and attempting to regulate his breathing. Enjolras was taken aback. Did he really had so little faith in Grantaire that he’d just assumed it was Grantaire’s fault for the accident? He was suddenly filled with the worst kind of shame imaginable.

For the first time in a long time, Enjolras didn’t have any words. He could only think to close the distance between them and wrap his arms around Grantaire.

“No!” Grantaire gently pushed him away, “No, You obviously don’t trust me. But I was driving home to show you this!” Grantaire dug through his ruined clothes and reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out a red coin, “Do you know what this is?” Grantaire hissed, his eyes were still puffy and red, he was still crying. He didn’t care anymore, “This is my one month sober chip from Alcoholic’s Anonymous! I’ve been going to meetings every week!” R threw the chip at Enjolras. It clattered to the floor.

Enjolras knelt down and picked it up. He bit his lip. His shame deepened. Grantaire grabbed his backpack from the floor, “But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” He whimpered, taking his bags and running out into the hallway with them, locking himself into a bathroom to change. He sat on the floor with his knees against his chest and just cried. He’d been working so hard to make Enjolras proud. He’d been trying so hard to show Enjolras that he wasn’t just a useless drunk. He could still be who he was without the alcohol, but he gets in one accident that wasn’t his fault and the person he loved most suspected the worst of him. He’d never cried so hard in his life, everything hurt, his body, his heart, even his will was aching.

Enjolras sat on the examination table and held the chip in his hand. It had been an entire month and he hadn’t noticed. Every time they’d went out and Grantaire had ordered water instead of a beer or a glass of wine, he hadn’t noticed. It must have been so hard for R to fight his addiction for a month now. Enjolras clutched it in his hand, wiping water from his cheeks, and stepped out into the hallway, knocking on the bathroom door. He couldn’t faintly hear Grantaire talking to himself.

Grantaire was slowly getting dressed, “The Twelve Traditions of Alcoholic’s Anonymous are as follows…” Grantaire pulled off his hospital down, “One, ‘Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity.” He pulled a clean sock onto his foot, “Two, ‘For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority—a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.’” He pulled on the other sock and unzipped the backpack for a clean t-shirt, “Three, ‘The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking.’” Grantaire winced as he pulled the shirt over his scathed torso, “Four, ‘Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or A.A. as a whole.’” He pulled on his jeans, messing with the belt until the pants fit right, “ Five, ‘Each group has but one primary purpose—to carry its message to the alcoholic who still suffers.” He’d stopped crying.

“Six, ‘An A.A. group ought never endorse, finance, or lend the A.A. name to any related facility or outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property, and prestige divert us from our primary purpose.” He stuffed his feet into his boots and zipped up his hoodie. He picked up his backpack, stuffed his ruined clothes into the largest pocket and zipped it shut. Grantaire took a deep breath ran his fingers along the door handle, Enjolras was leaned up against the door on the other side, his shoulders shaking. “Seven,” Grantaire opened the door, he could see how bad Enjolras felt just be looking at his body language, even though water was dripping onto his coat from his face, “‘Every A.A. group ought to be fully self-supporting, declining outside contributions.’” He didn’t think he could make it to twelve looking at Enjolras like this.

Enjolras choked and Grantaire embraced him. “I’m so sorry” Enjolras wept, clinging to Grantaire, because if he let him go, he might just lose him like he almost did tonight.

“You didn’t know! I would have thought the same thing if I were you!” Grantaire wrapped his hands in Apollo’s hair, grabbing a fistful and twirling it gently around his finger.

“I should have known. But I’m just so happy you’re alive!” Enjolras was sniffling now, and his vision was blurry, “Joly told me what happened and I was so scared. The nurse on the phone said-well, never mind what she said, but I just go so mad because I love you and I didn’t want you to throw away all of your hard work. But now I know and I’m so proud of you.” Enjolras finally pulled away, putting a hand on Grantaire’s cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“Can we go home now?” Grantaire sighed, eager to put this night behind him.

“Yes, of course we can go home.” Enjolras smiled and kissed the small area of his forehead that wasn’t scratched or scraped. He handed the chip back to Grantaire, “Keep going, I’ll be with you the whole way.”

***

When they got home, Grantaire went inside, picked up Robot off the counter, kissed Enjolras goodnight and went upstairs, taking the cat with him. He tucked his chip into his drawer and laid down on his side of the bed, rubbing between Robot’s ears. He quickly fell asleep, completely exhausted from the events of the day. He hoped he wouldn’t dream, because if he didn’t dream, he couldn’t have nightmares. Enjolras changed into his pajamas and eased himself into the bed, texting Combeferre.

Enjolras plugged in his phone and pulled a blanket from the under the bed bin so he wouldn’t have to mooch off of Grantaire. He was just content letting Grantaire sleep, he was content that their little family was together again for another night and that two men and their cat could live another day. Enjolras sighed and watched Grantaire’s chest rise and fall, he was here, with him, and he couldn’t be happier. The crash could become a memory, and they could move forward. Even the darkest night would end and the sun would rise.   
  



End file.
